Under the Hood
by Kendall Handcock
Summary: When a female automechanic is killed in New York and dumped in Boston, Detective Jane Rizzoli and Chief Medical Examiner Maura Isles must make the journey to the Big Apple to find who is behind it.Enlisting the help of NYPD's top detective Kate Beckett and the murder-mystery novellist Richard Castle, Rizzoli and Isles dive into the tempestuous waters of the Irish mob.
1. Chapter 1 - R&I

Boston PD Detective Jane Rizzoli winced as she unfolded herself from her unmarked. She raised one hand to shade her eyes from the blinding sunlight, unhooking her aviators from the v-neck of her simple grey shirt with the other. With one practised swing she placed them over her face and huffed a sigh of relief.

"Morning, Detective!" chirruped the uniform manning the tape, lifting it for her without needing Jane to flash her badge. Jane slipped under.

"Aren't we just two spoonfuls of sunshine this morning?" Jane muttered to herself. Luckily the uniform didn't hear and turned back to face the early morning rubberneckers.

Jane took a moment to watch them – the crowd of milling bystanders with their cameraphones and obsessive need to blog everything. Jane didn't particularly want her face splashed across every Twitter account originating from the Greater Boston region, so her slow pivot wasn't intended to garner her fifteen minutes of fame. Instead her eyes scanned the craning joggers and dog-walkers for something else.

Whatever it was she didn't find it, and Jane paused only momentarily before turning her back on the crowd to face her newest victim.

"Vic's a Jane Doe, about 27," said Frost. The young black man was a cautious distance away from the cloth barrier that had been hastily erected around the body. He held his Moleskine in one hand, a white hankerchief in the other. "Jogger found her this morning on his usual route. Korsak's questioning him," Frost nodded to the corner of a brick building that helped form the gloomy dead-end alleyway where homicide milled around their latest task. Jane followed his gaze and saw her old partner crouching before a thirty-something man in fluro pink running shorts.

"Nice, right?" Frost asked, eyeing the shorts. "Gotta get me a pair."

"Is someone on security cam detail?" Jane asked, wincing as a fresh pain shot through her head.

"Yeah, I have unis canvassing the block for any cameras. And a couple more dumpster diving within a six block radius for any ID or murder weapon."

"And what's our murder weapon?" Jane asked, rubbing her forehead with the heel of her right hand.

"Vic has multiple GSWs from a .38. Big mess," Frost replied. He paused, eyeing her. "You alright, Jane?"

Before Jane could reply the staccato beat of high heels on concrete announced the breathless arrival of Chief Medical Examiner Maura Isles – a gifted ME and Jane's best friend. The red-head was dressed immaculately, as usual, and Jane caught a whiff of something perfume-y that was bound to cost more than her monthly pay cheque.

"So sorry I'm late!" Maura said. "Bass wouldn't eat his breakfast."

"You and that damn turtle, Maura," Jane said.

"_Tortoise, _Jane. How many times do I have to tell you? Oh dear."

Jane looked at her. "What?"

Maura leant forwards, scrutinising Jane's sharp face. "You're suffering from an obvious case of veisalgia indicated by hypoglycemia, probable glutamine rebound, and a vitamin B12 definciency."

Jane stomped her foot, grimacing. "Maura! You know I hate it when you do that."

"Oh," Maura wrinkled her nose. "And a bad case of halitosis. Might I suggest a breath mint? I'm sure I have one somewhere." She began rummaging in her Armani.

"What? No. I don't want a breath mint, Maura. What does all that mean?"

Maura smiled. "It means you have a hangover, my friend."

"Well, no crap." Jane smiled as her friend laughed. "Okay, alright, let's meet our newest Doe."

The pair stepped away from Frost and beelined towards the location of the body. As they walked Jane eyeballed the surroundings. The body lay close to the wall of one of the buildings right at the mouth of the alleyway, which terminated in a corrugated iron wall a few dozen feet away. A grimy dumpster played sentinel opposite the body. Jane saw what looked like fresh blood splatter on the greasy, rusted metal. It also lay in small congealed pools on the concrete.

"Geez, that's a lot of blood," Jane said.

"Jane, you know you cannot confirm that it is blood until tests have been run," Maura admonished her.

"Maura, it's blood. Okay. This is a murder scene. It's not going to be ketchup. Ohhh, that is _messy_." Jane stepped around the cloth barrier shielding the body from prying eyes.

Multiple GSWs didn't even begin to cover it. The woman lay crumpled near a grate, her dark blue coveralls stained deep red. Her head was turned sideways, mutilated face towards Jane, medium-length, mousey-brown hair pulled back in a simple, workmanlike ponytail. One of her heavy workboots was missing. The other was blackened from what Jane guessed was oil.

"Looks like he emptied a few clips into her," Jane continued, crouching down to get a closer look. "He did a number on the face. Maybe this was personal."

"Jane, you know I hate it when you speculate. As for the facial damage, there looks to be enough teeth left to pull dental records. So if they don't find any identification we should at least be able to find out who she is."

"Right. Well. You get on with that, and I'll continue speculating," Jane replied, straightening. Maura grinned at her as she snapped on her purple medical gloves.

Jane spent half an hour canvassing the area with other detectives and a handful of unis, looking for any clues or evidence. They found nothing. Jane returned to the alleyway as the body was being zipped into a bag. Maura watched it, idly straightening her dusty rose pencil skirt. Her friend had an amazing figure maintained, as Jane knew, by carefully planned exercises and a meticulous eating regime. Jane's own toned figure came from sparring sessions and hearty burgers. The women were worlds apart, but simulatenously often on the same page.

"It's a good thing we're at a murder scene," Jane grimaced as Maura looked up and saw her approaching.

"It's a … good thing someone is dead?" Maura asked, confused.

"Well, no."

"Then why is it a good thing we're at a murder scene?"

"Because I'm going to kill Frankie."

"Ohh," Maura nodded knowingly. "Because he kept you up all night and made you drink all that vodka."

"Ya think?" Jane clipped in reply. Groaning, she raised one hand to cradle her forehead.

"You might not wanna kill me after you see what I found, sis," came a voice behind her. Jane turned to see her little brother Frankie grinning lopsidedly at her.

"After all those shots you deserve to die," Jane told him. "What did you find?"

"You see that? So much hostility," Frankie said to Maura, who smiled.

"Frankie! Just show me!"

"Alright, alright. Geez, keep ya hair on," Frankie said. He produced a baggie from behind his back. In it – a black leather wallet.

"Yesss. Frankie, I could kiss you!" Jane said.

"Not with that morning breath, you ain't," Frankie replied.

He yelped when Jane hit him.


	2. Chapter 2 - R&I

"So, our vic is Sara Darrah. 28 years old. Originally from NYC. Automechanic at a known chop shop downtown," Frost said from his media throne. He swivelled in his chair to point at the large screen before them. "Busted for a few B'n'Es and grand theft auto a few years back. Clean since then, but that doesn't mean she didn't get herself in too deep with something."

"Any family?" Jane asked, nursing her hangover with the large double shot in her hand.

"Dad did a nickel at Riker's before committing suicide when she was 18. Mother skipped town and left Sara and her little brother behind. The kid ended up on the wrong side of a bookie last year and they found him floating in the Hudson."

"Yikes. Happy family."

"Yeah, and that's not all," Frost said. He reached for his mouse and dragged a new file to the centre of the screen. With a double-click he opened the mugshot of a glaring older man. "Sara's maternal grandfather was James Conroy."

"Jimmy Conroy?" piped up Korsak. Jane turned to look at him. Korsak leaned back from his desk, a half-read folder propped open in his hand.

"You've heard of him?" she asked.

"Heard of him? Ohhh man," Korsak chuckled with delight. Jane raised one dark eyebrow quizzically. "Jimmy Conroy was a legend back in the day. Came over from Ireland during prohibition with a single dollar in his pocket and within two years he was running the largest bootlegging operation on the eastern seaboard. After prohibition ended he dabbled in all sorts of other ventures, but towards the end he was moving the most marijuana of anyone in New York. Jimmy Conroy had all sorts of people killed, but they could never pin anything on him. Man was a ghost."

"Well, while you reminisce about the 'good old days' Frost and I will be solving this present day murder," Jane said, standing up. Korsak pulled a face. "I'm going down to the morgue to see if Maura's found anything."

"Hurry back," Korsak said, sarcastically.

Jane entered the room to see Maura bent over Sara Darrah's body, her face inches from the mangled mess that had once been a nose. Maura had a pair of tweezers in her hand and was intently trying to pry a tiny something from the jagged ridge of flesh.

Jane didn't want to interrupt her, so she waited on the fringe of the room with her hands behind her back. Before long Maura straightened, stared for a second at whatever was clutched in the tweezers, before turning to place it in a plastic bottle. Jane approached as Maura screwed the lid closed.

"You know how much I hate to say 'I told you so', Jane," Maura commented, without even looking up.

"No. You love it," Jane replied. A laugh rasped from her throat. She leaned one tapering hip on the gurney that held Sara Darrah's body and folded her arms tight below her breasts.

"That's true. I do, don't I?" Maura grinned, fixing Jane with her gorgeous grey-brown eyes. Jane couldn't help but smile.

"Yes, you do. Now, what is it?"

Maura's amused grin morphed into a slightly smug one. She raised her penciled eyebrows. "That reddish brown substance at the crime scene?"

"The blood?" Jane asked.

"The not blood," Maura replied.

Jane's eyebrows also went up. "That wasn't blood?"

"I told you so. Oh, you're right. That does feel good."

Jane suppressed a smile. "Maura, what was it?"

Maura dodged around the gurney on her way to a nearby trestle table. She tugged a piece of paper free from the slight clutter of used bowls and tools.

"A mixture of water, corn syrup, red No. 40 food dye, flour, cornstarch and chocolate syrup," she read off the sheet.

"Chocolate syrup … wait, that was fake blood?" Jane asked.

"Correct," Maura said.

"So, not real blood. But still blood," Jane clarified.

"Well … figuratively speaking, yes ..." Maura replied, hesitantly. She knew where this was going.

Jane pointed her index finger at Maura. "Then it was still blood. So you don't get to say 'I told you so'," she crowed, triumphantly.

Maura sensed her victory slipping away. "No, come on. That's not fair, Jane."

"How is that not fair? I said it was blood, didn't I?"

"But it isn't blood."

"You just said it's blood. Fake blood. But still blood."

"Jane," Maura pouted.

Jane laughed. "Oh, come on. I'll buy you a drink after work. How does that sound?"

Maura watched her petulantly for a second. "Fine. But no beer."

"But I like beer."

"You said drink. You didn't say what kind of drink."

"Alright, alright. No beer," Jane laughed, pushing off the gurney and striding for the double doors. "I'll come down later and get you."

Jane spent her afternoon chasing down Sara Darrah's next of kin, finally locating an aunt in northern New York who agreed to make the journey the next day to Boston to identify her neice and answer a few questions. It was five fifteen exactly when she entered the morgue again.

"Oh, Maura. Come on," Jane said exasperatedly. Her friend was still in her lab coat, gloves and goggles. "I want to get out of here."

"Jane, oh! I'm sorry," Maura checked her watch. "Shoot. Uhm ..." she dropped the petri dish she was carrying onto a stainless steel trolley with a clatter. "Darn. Give me – give me just a minute, okay."

"Maura, no, don't rush," Jane called. But too late. Maura had already disappeared into her office.

They arrived at the Dirty Robber at 5:43pm. As a cop bar it was probably the only local watering hole in the area to be active at this time of day. Jane double-parked her unmarked Crown Vic outside the entrance and she and Maura headed inside.

They found their usual booth unoccupied and slid onto the familiar seats. Maura ordered a vintage white wine and Jane her usual beer.

"Jane, you said no beer," Maura protested.

"Hey, I was right about the blood thing. So you kinda owe me," Jane reasoned, taking a long hit. Maura didn't even bother arguing. Instead she launched into an update of what she had found so far on Sara Darrah's body.

"I found an unusual concentration of minerals in the dirt on Sara Darrah's clothing," she informed Jane, sipping her wine daintily. "Oh, that's good," she added, looking at the glass.

"What kind of minerals?" Jane asked, slouching in the booth and cradling her beer in both hands on the table.

"Notably iron ore, lead, mercury and zinc," Dr. Isles replied, taking another sip. "In concentrations much higher than would be expected in Massachusetts."

Jane's eyebrows shot up and she sat forward. "She was killed out of state?"

"Precisely."

"Can you guess where?"

Maura tsked her tongue. "Jane, I don't guess. I analyse. And I can tell you exactly where she was killed."

"Well, great. Case solved," Jane replied mockingly, collapsing back against the booth.

Maura gave her friend a disparaging look as Jane chuckled throatily and swigged back more of her beer.

"Oh, come on, Maura. I was kidding. Tell me. Please?"

"I'm not sure I should now. Maybe I should just let you guess."

"Seriously, Maur. I was joking. Come on, tell me."

"Nope."

"Maur, don't make me beg." Jane gave Maura her best puppy-dog impression, big dark eyes glittering above her pouty lower lip.

"You're the detective. Go detect."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

Maura just gave her a smug smile and a quirky twitch of her shoulders.

"New York?"

Jane could empathise with Korsak's disbelieving tone. "New York City. Lower Manhattan to be exact."

"And she can tell all that from dirt?"

"Apparently."

Korsak shook his head. "I'll never understand science."

"That's alright, Korsak. Science doesn't understand you either," Jane quipped. Frost snorted and Korsak hoisted an affronted look onto his face.

"So what," Frost asked, "does NYPD take over from here?"

"No. Sara Darrah is a Boston citizen. Whatever she got into up there is still part of our case," Jane replied. In reality, she would be damned before she let NYPD take over.

"Alright. So, what's our next move, then?" Frost said.

Jane thought for a moment, chewing her lower lip while leaning casually on the back of her desk chair. "Frost, you check all that security footage. I want a car, a witness, anything. Korsak can help for a while. And contact NYPD. Let them know we're working a fresh body with ties to the city. Tell them what you need to, but not all that you have to. I'm going to go back down to the morgue and see if Maura found anything else. If you've got anything when I get back we can move from there. Break on three."

"Break," Korsak said without looking up. Jane grinned as she rolled from the room.


End file.
